Dear Santa ...

 

 I’ve never written to you before, but this year I need all the help I can get! I’ve lost my sense of humor! Sometime, somewhere over the past few months, my sense of humor has disappeared.

I’ve looked everywhere for it but no luck . I can’t remember laying it down anywhere where I could have gone off and forgotten it. I’m not aware that any of my other possessions are missing, so I doubt that my pocket has been picked or my purse snatched and it has been stolen. (I rather doubt that there would be much of a market for a used sense of humor anyway.)

It’s just been the past few weeks that I realized that it was gone. Life’s little everyday irritations suddenly seemed like world-shaking threats. People began to get on my nerves; their complaints and bad habits depressed me. I even considered joining the Foreign Legion to "get away from it – and them – all."

That’s when I began to feel that emptiness inside me where my sense of humor should have been. But I checked – and it was gone! Had someone sneaked into my house in the middle of a dark night when I was deep in a sound sleep and performed a "humorectomy" on me without my knowledge? Perhaps it was surgically removed in order to transplant it into somebody else. (But, honestly, St. Nick, I don’t think my sense of humor would be an exact match or a good fit for anybody else. Over the three score and ten years of my life, it has become rather specialized to my unique use of it!)

So, Santa, I’m asking for your help. I’m trying to be good, but it’s hard. Living without a sense of humor is like driving a bumpy road in a car with no shock absorbers!

I’d rather have my old sense of humor back if you can find it. But, if you can’t, I would accept a new model. Just see to it that it doesn’t come pre-programmed with a lot of dirty jokes and stupidity. I’m not sure I could get that erased and re-programmed in time to do me any good. My patience is already growing thin – SO HURRY UP, please!

Desperate and humorless,

Many Sorrows.

(BAH HUMBUG!)

P.S. Santa: Forget my request for my sense of humor or a replacement. I found it again, quite by accident! My feet began to giggle and I discovered that my sense of humor had slipped out of its usual place and dropped down all the way to the bottoms of my feet! I had been walking on it for some time thinking I had lost it!

Thank you for your kind attention to my request – now unnecessary. Happy holidays to you and yours.

Cheerful again,

Merry Sunshine

(HO HO HO)

Retreat -- Not Surrender

 

For seven years, I have been battling sand burrs! I got acquainted with them early in our first winter season in south Texas. We parked in an asphalt drive-thru site, and the weather was delightfully warm. I rushed outside barefoot, and quickly and painfully discovered those pesky, omnipresent little stickers. Since that encounter, I’ve worn shoes.

Several years later, we leased an RV site in a park and immediately made arrangements to have it covered with concrete. "There," I thought vengefully, "that will fix those sneaky sand burrs. We’ll bury them under nearly 4 inches of concrete." And so, we did!

Our concrete slab did bury the sand burrs underneath but it did not phase the sticky little devils elsewhere. Walking across the "infield" of the park, the sand burrs jumped with joy as they attached themselves to the hems of my pants and especially my shoes. If I did not take the time to stand outside the door and painstakingly dislodge every one of the spiny little things, they soon infested the rugs inside our house. From the rugs, when we weren’t looking, they jumped into the towel drawer and the clothes closet. Changing clothes sometimes became a stickery experience!

I hadn’t realized how thickly their roots entwined under the soil, invisible to the eye. We decided to plant some starts of a native plant – called "frog fruit" – behind our rig. Several species of butterflies choose this plant to harbor them in one stage of their development, and we wanted to encourage the growth of those fluttering little gems.

 To prepare the area for planting, I spent weeks pulling and digging out sand burr roots. I could hardly believe the length of some of those roots; several were longer than I am tall! And they are tough, clinging stubbornly to the underground pathways through which they have grown. Often, after I had tugged and pulled out several feet of root, it would break and I realized that I had lost that battle because the remaining root was sure to come up again!

We planted our "frog fruit" and it quickly took root and grew. We were delighted with our lovely patch of plants with their tiny green leaves and white flowers. But it wasn’t long before the sand burr shoots began to appear, up through and above our plants. I pulled them out, and back they came! I cleaned them out again, and they came back even thicker. And, to complicate the problem, their stems looked a lot like the stems of our dear little "frog fruit."

Every fall, when we return to our winter home, there is a bumper crop of sand burrs choking out our flowers. It takes me at least a week or two to clean them out so the "frog fruit" can breathe. Then those persistent little pricklers are back before I can get rested up enough to attack them again!

This year those viney spiny little intruders killed off about half of our little flowers! I realized that, while they are invading and growing 24/7, I was only able to pull and dig them out about 2/3. Clearly, I was losing my war with sand burrs!

So, I came up with a new strategy: I let the sand burrs have the area they had cleared. There they can battle the lawn mower. But, for us, I fenced off an area of healthy "frog fruit" plants. I even stole a few healthy plants from the sand burr territory and transplanted them into my protected place to try to encourage the struggling plants there. I will NOT give up my war against sand burrs! So, this new arrangement may be retreat, but it is NOT surrender!

Dia de los Muertos

 

Hallowe’en has come and gone, and we had a great party here at the park. There were scary costumes, funny costumes, dancing, lots of yummy treats, and a pumpkin carving contest.







But, for many of our neighbors here in deep south Texas, Hallowe’en takes a back seat to Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), a traditional Hispanic holiday.

Now, don’t quit reading yet just because the name sounds creepy. It is really a happier and more enjoyable celebration than our Hallowe’en and is related to the same tradition. Centuries ago, the Roman Catholic church designated November 1^st as "All Saints’ Day," and November 2^nd as "All Souls’ Day." These were designated by the church as times for remembering those who had died during the previous year. The evening before (October 31) was called "Hallowed Evening," a time of remembrance and special prayers for the departed.

English-speaking peoples shortened the name of the October remembrance to "Hallowe’en" and, through the years, it has become focused upon the scarier aspects of death: ghosts, witches, ghouls, vampires, and other such frightening things.

In Spanish-speaking countries, however, the Roman Catholic holiday was combined with ancient native celebrations. An early August celebration of remembrance of the dead dates back 2500 to 3000 years in the Aztec culture. As time passed, those native customs and the Roman Catholic practices became mixed together.

In modern Mexico, October 31^st is "La Noche de Duelo" (the Night of Mourning). Some families follow the custom of gathering in the cemetery to clean up and decorate the graves of deceased loved ones on that day.





(picture courtesy of Wikiipedia)

Decorations usually include favorite food and drink of the dead loved one, and perhaps an item representing a favorite hobby or activity, all enhanced with golden-yellow marigold flowers. Some families will picnic together at the gravesites as the elders retell stories of the deceased to the children. Many will sleep around the grave for the night.

November 1^st is "Dia de los Angelitos" (Day of the Little Angels) dedicated to the remembrance of infants and children who have died. November 2^nd is "Dia de los Muertos" (Day of the Dead) on which adult ancestors and loved ones are recalled. 



Altars are built in many homes which often include a picture of the deceased, items representing his/her favorite food, drink or activities, a Christian cross, candles, and lovely paper art which flutters in every breeze.







Special sweets of the holiday also decorate the altar. Pan de Muertos (Bread of the Dead) is a special sweet bread often decorated with coils of dough in the shape of a skeleton. Skull-shaped sugar candies are a favorite for the children. The altar, too, is decorated with marigolds, the official flower of the celebration.

The mood is festive and joyful, even humorous. Telling stories about the deceased – especially funny tales – helps sweeten the family’s memories of the departed ancestor.



The home altar, dedicated to the deceased one, reminds all who enter the house how cherished and important that person still is to his/her descendants. Common images of the occasion include





(Picture courtesy of Wikipedia)

 skeletons and "catrinas",

 

(Picture courtesy of Wikipedia)

 

elegantly dressed female skeletons, who serve as humorous reminders that the rich

 – as well as the poor – all die.

 

 



We were educated about this unique holiday as we toured a special exhibit at the Museum of South Texas History in nearby Edinburg, Texas.



 



We roamed through their exhibits of home altars, cemetery decorations, tasted some of the holiday sweets, and admired the jewelry, bags, tableware, and notecards created by skilled artisans especially for the holiday.



 We’re all in favor of substituting the humor of Dia de los Muertos for the horror of Hallowe’en!

CPR on me!

It's a long story. Back in the early 1980s my doctor first told me that I had a "benign" heart murmur. At that time he simply wanted me to know in case any other doctor asked if I had been aware of the murmur.

About 2002 the doctor whom I was seeing at that time became more concerned about the presence of the murmur in the Aortic valve and repeated tests every year or two to keep an eye on it.

I began to see my current cardiologist in 2008 and he did both an echocardiogram and a heart catheterization to get a "baseline" for me as a new patient. He has continued to do an echocardiogram each year since then. This year's echocardiogram was done on October 29 and I went back to the office on Nov. 5 for the follow-up. When the doctor entered the room he asked how I felt. "Fine" He looked at me in all seriousness and asked "Do you have any symptoms?" I was a bit floored and replied, "None."

He then proceeded to explain that the echocardiogram was showing significant worsening of the Aortic Valve problem -- almost twice as bad as last year. "I am really worried" was his comment. He suggested a heart catheterization for the very next day. And that was ok with me.

So yesterday I was at the hospital at 6 am to register, do the labs, and be ready for a 7am catheterization. When the procedure was over they called Mary Sue to meet with the doctor who explained that the results were much better than he had expected. The aortic valve was compromised about 20% compared to 10% four years earlier. And while there are deposits on some of the arteries that is not of much concern at this time. Mary Sue was to wait where she was after the doctor left and they would be bringing me out soon.

In the meantime our friend was in the waiting room and heard a "Code Blue" page for the room in the cath lab where I was having my procedure. About the same time a nurse asked Mary Sue to return to the waiting room for a bit longer. When Mary Sue rejoined our friend, the friend could not understand why Mary Sue was so upbeat when Rebecca had just heard the Code page. Apparently Mary Sue was still remembering the good news from the doctor and had not associated the Code page with me.

Later on, the cardiologist met with Mary Sue a second time and explained that when the team had removed the catheter my heart stopped twice. The cardiologist showed her a paper strip from the EKG showing the regular rhythms and then the two periods of straight lines.

Fortunately all is well that ends well. I have some soreness in my chest this morning as a result of the CPR compressions. Also there is some mild soreness around the site where they inserted the catheter. I get to remove the big clunky bandage this afternoon and take a shower (and wash off that green stuff that I am painted up with).

I am to resume normal activities tomorrow and have a follow-up with the cardiologist on November 26.

So I was especially thankful to wake up this morning still breathing!!!!!!!!! and rejoicing in the good news from the heart catheterization.

So, with gratitude, I share with you the good news.

Bruce

Parade of Physicians: Our Annual Physical Exam

 

　

First to the lab to give them some blood.

Then two Docs gave us shots ‘gainst the flu.

Doc Three examined our eyes with great care.

Next the dentist had his turn, too.

Doc Five checked our skin for cancerous spots.

Doc Six assessed our heart health.

Doc Seven removed painful corns from my feet,

And they all dipped into our wealth!

Each year, as we age – or so it seems –

Staying well requires more Docs.

It’s hard to try to keep up with them all,

But it sure beats a burial box!

　

The New Blinds Have Been Installed

On Monday we wrote in our blog about ordering new blinds for our eleven-year old New Horizons fifth-wheel trailer.   The pleated shades originally installed were wonderful when they were new.  Actually they represent an amazing inventiveness in the way they combine a day shade and a night shade all in one.   However, after eleven years of nearly daily use they looked worn, dirty, and soiled.

The old day shades screened out excess light.

The old pleated night shades were aged, worn, and dingy.
We had repaired many of them with replacement strings.

The new solar-shield day shades keep out the sun, but seem
to disappear so that you can actually see out right through the blind.

 

The new night shade is easy-to-clean vinyl that
blocks 100% of the light.

We are very well pleased with these new shades and we are well pleased with the process of ordering them and having them professionally installed by the staff of MCD Innovations here in McKinney, Texas.

MCD Innovations is located in McKinney, Texas
http://www.mcdinnovations.com/

 

We are also grateful to our friends Ken and Lee who demonstrated the MCD blinds in their New Horizons fifth-wheel coach and encouraged us to purchase the blinds for our own unit.

 

Tomorrow we continue our journey toward our winter home in the Rio Grande River Valley.

 

 

A Strawberry Jam

We had a mess, and we didn’t even know it! Several times in the past couple of weeks, at the end of the day when we set up, we discovered kitchen chaos. There were scrambled silverware, jumping jello boxes, and crash-landing canned goods when we opened the pantry cupboard in the rear kitchen of our fifth wheel.

We’d not recently had any more broken dishes or tableware since we had begun stacking them with a square of shelf liner between each plate and then packing the stack enclosed tightly in a plastic storage bag. It’s a real pain to get them out if I’m in a hurry to put a meal on the table but it has helped decrease the excitement of exploding plates! We thought we had our breakage problem solved.

However, yesterday at mid-morning snack time, Bruce was checking the bottom shelf – the "extra supplies shelf" – when an ominous sound escaped from his pursed lips, "Oops!" He was searching for the extra jar of apple butter which was hidden away behind the pickle relish. He pulled out the relish jar, and it was artistically adorned with sticky red stuff!

"What was going on?" we wondered together. The applesauce jar he pulled forth next was dripping with the same mysterious juicy mess. Then an ominous memory flashed through my mind. "There’s an extra jar of strawberry jam in there, too," I said with fear and trembling. Bruce pulled out the plastic storage bin, and there it was. The jar of strawberry jam could no longer be referred to in the present tense; it was clearly a "has been." Splinters of glass sparkled in the light and syrupy red goo silently crept across the bottom of the bin. The jar had not only broken, it had exploded!

It was sugar-free jam, but that didn’t make it any less sticky to clean up. As we trashed the remains of the glass jar and scrubbed up its yucky contents, we wondered when the jam jar had met its end. How long had we been carrying that mini-disaster in our pantry?

There had been many bumpy roads and one sudden stop in the previous days. Any of those road hazards could have caused the demise of the strawberry jam jar. We’ll never know when it hit its breaking point but we’re much relieved to be out of our "strawberry jam." In the future, we’ll buy everything we can in plastic containers!

　

25 Sept 2012 - mshr